


All men dream

by BigDamnReader



Series: All your universes are belonging to us [2]
Category: Firefly
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Simon Whump, Why do I like hurting this boy so much?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 07:16:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20542217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigDamnReader/pseuds/BigDamnReader
Summary: 1943 France. The Nazi jackboot has crushed all major governments in Europe, and subjected its people to a reign of terror. But one group, one of many brave people, stands in resistance. The Serenity maquis does its best to fight against the oppression, but its a dengerous world they live in.





	All men dream

**Author's Note:**

> Warning : Some slight racism in the Zoe part of this chapter. Note these do not represent my views on race, rather the views common at the time.

**Rouen, 1943**

  
The evening air was refreshing and Inara breathed it in deeply, hem of her silk dress gently swaying as the wind curled around her slender form. She could hear the sound of the fisherman shouting by the river as they secured their boats and moaned at the paltry catch of the day. Children ran past, squealing in happiness while their mothers called after them in admonishment. A dog barked somewhere behind her, and a car blared its horn. A perfectly normal moment in an otherwise extraordinary time. 

Inara stood on the cracked pavement, trying to live in the peacefulness of this existence as her mind fought to return to its prior turbulent thoughts, which had driven her from her house in the first place. Normally a place of refuge, the morning’s conversation with her bane had filled the place to bursting with stuffy tension and often denied worry. The red flag behind her cracked in the air as her mind turned to darker tidings. The street scene seemed to melt away before her very eyes, twisting itself into a horrific nightmare. The children were not squealing; They were screaming in terror, their parents calling for them desperately, away from the pounding boots marching up the cobbled path. A weaponised motorbike and sidecar stormed around the corner, horn blaring, almost running over the dog while its occupants only laughed, filled with the ecstasy of power. She chocked on the very air around as it turned poisonous. Her heart started to stutter and die as the feelings of helplessness crashed over her, whipped up by the crooked symbol flaming on the flags thrown over every building in sight.

“Lovely evening.”

Her terror froze in its tracks, unable to figure out how to take over this new visitor. Glittering eyes caught sight of a familiar cocky smile sculpted on to a weary, yet contented, face. Her Bane returned once more.

“If you say so.” She replied, lifting her mouth into a pleasant smile: A smile crafted and perfected over many years of playing pretend.

Mal chuckled unworriedly, leaning back against the wall with a casual air as if the very world was not falling at their feet. Dressed in his usual brown slacks, wool overshirt and braces, Mal appeared to be utterly unfazed by any problems hanging in the air around them. Inara knew better though, could see the exhaustion around the eyes, the tension holding the shoulders and the ever-shifting eyes searching for trouble. They’d known each other too long to not see through hasty defences.

“You appear put out. Got swung by a fella with too small a pocket for your services?” He smirked at her, and she knew instantly he was goading her for a response. Their usual verbal sparring. No doubt he would never give it up – weather or not she would let him was beside the matter. She took her tongue up readily.

“No. In fact, he was very charming unlike certain individuals I know. If he’d taken his jackboots off it would have been a perfect evening.” Her eyes flashed as she saw his face fall into a scowl. All of his buttons were at her control.  
“Well we can’t all find perfection looking at the ceiling!”

She huffed and they fell into silence. They always did this, hurting each other. Sometimes it was non-lethal, and they would reunite with a laugh over a strong gin. Other times it would take a week of avoidance, stare-downs and lashed tongues until someone’s door was knocked on at an odd hour. Standing side-by-side, they watched as the street emptied of parading soldiers and frightened families. Mal’s head kept turning to the left, eyes focusing on the on the other side of the river. Inara frowned, gaze searching for what he was interested. Their conversation this morning had hinted at mischief but had been too vague for her to work out what he was planning. She moved her head to get a clearer view of the south side but couldn’t see anything even remotely interesting apart from the munitions factory… her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“What have you done?”

Hands raised up in the old-fashioned sign of surrender as the face adopted as innocent expression as ever seen on a brigand. She glared conspicuously at the factory, giving Mal a moment to follow her line of sight. He let out a long ‘oooh’ sound, stepped away from the wall and rested his hands on his hips. 

“Just a little gift for our unwanted guests. It’s going to be real pretty tonight though.”

“Would you stop messing about and be serious for a moment. What did you do?”

A chuckle followed her question and he moved over to her other side. “It wasn’t even me really, it was Doc – he’s the one at fault. You see, last week, he was doctoring this blackshirt…

* * *

Simon stared with venom at the Wehrmacht soldier dirtying up his exam table. The man was blathering on about a new overseer or something, arms waving about spasmodically as his complaint reached its boiling point. The Unteroffizier had stormed in about twenty minutes earlier, throwing out his waiting patients, demanding that Simon “take a look” at his “problem”. Like most of his ilk, fresh with new pay, he had headed to the seedier areas of town to look to alternative forms of entertainment – without taking the proper precautions. Like open flood gates, the week after payday found Dr Tam’s surgery drowned it German soldiers with similar “problems”. It certainly didn’t help with his reputation.

The man still bulldozed on, ignorant of the death being shot his way through narrowed eyes. Taking a deep breath to sooth his harried heart, Simon ducked under a flapping hand and raised a hideously long syringe in the soldier’s face. Word’s stuttered to a stop as the glittering needle came ever closer, making the patient gulp and wonder if his issue was really so important. Simon had to fight back a grin as he issued his next command.

“Turn around and drop them please.”

“Wha..Drop them?” He cried in indignation. “Can’t you just put it in my arm or something?” With every word his voice rose in

panic, until all that came out was a breathless squeal.  
“No. Drop them. Danke.” Simon could see the soldier tense as he sensed the medicine creep closer. To Simon’s further amusement, the man let out a piggish grunt as the needle was removed. Simon shook his head; one would think the man was having a bullet removed!

“Pull the trousers up but don’t fasten them – I’ll need to make sure you have no adverse effect.”

“Adverse effects? Like what?”

“Oh you know, boils, seizures, vomiting – little things.”

Simon had to turn away as the Unteroffizier’s face paled. It wasn’t proper, he knew, for a doctor to take such pleasure in a patient’s distress, but it was hard when said patient was one of the very people he was trying to avoid. He began to wash his hands as the soldier took up his prior train of conversation.

“This man – Captain Hanchen or some such stupid name – has come into the factory and ruined everything! He doesn’t care at all about our lives or the way we did things. We have to do as he says and if he says ‘Jump’, then its ‘Jawohl Captain!”  
Simon had to firmly remind his mouth not to react and remind the man before him that that was exactly what was happening that very minute, and what Simon had attempted to run from all those years ago. The solider carried on, unaware of his companion’s dark thoughts.

“I mean, these new sentry schedules. Longer hours, less men. I ask you Herr Doktor, what is a man to do in that situation but become tired and rest his weary feet?”

Simon’s ears perked up at this, and he pushed himself from the counter attentively. Uncrossing his arms, Simon began to mentally note the information being handed on to him on a lace decorated silver tray. The uniformed menace in his surgery carried on his tirade, every syllable giving him a new titbit to inventory. The sky grew darker as the story carried on...

Finally, an hour later, the soldier seemed to wind down and finish his tale. Simon gave him a final sympathetic nod (ignoring his aching neck) and escorted him from the door. It closed with his exasperated sigh. The key turned in the lock, the lights were turned off, and Simon dragged himself up the stairs leading to his living quarters. As he expected, River was sat there waiting for him. A book was in her hands, but the way her eyes were more focused on the clock than the pages made her message clear: He was late. Without speaking, he made his way to the kitchen area and pulled out the food left waiting for him in the small oven. 

“Well?”

Simon looked at his sister over his steaming plate of meat and potatoes. He looked to his left, then his right, before finally realising she expected something from him. The fork clanked off the plate pointedly.

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to tell Mal?”

“Now? River I’m eating…”

“A message late is better not delivered at all. Boob. Basic intelligence precedent shouldn’t need explaining.” 

Wistful eyes stared at the delicious plate sitting in front of them. A stray hand wandered back to the cutlery but a harsh cough sent them scurrying back into shirtsleeves. Simon pursed his lips and shoved his chair back, heading with heavy steps back to the door and grabbing his jacket on the way.

“That better be heated again when I get back.” He told her with a pointed finger. She just stuck her tongue out at him. With a groan he slammed the door shut and stomped down the stairs.

“Boob”

* * *

“So you see, Inara, that it was really the Doc’s fault.”

“Really?” She doubted with pursed lips. “I don’t recall seeing Simon out here tonight.”

“Well, I did pass the information onto Kaylee…”

* * *

“I don’t understand why they wouldn’t stick with the old straight axel rather than the crooked mess they use now, y’know? I mean, sure it has more stability, but so does a tank, but you don’t see us slapping tracks onto each and every car passing through here do you? And as for the-“

“Uh yeah, sure Kaylee. I’m sorry to interrupt but I’ve got to…uh…do some supervisor stuff…so”

The gangly man quivering before he turned with a half-hearted wave and all but ran out of the storage room he had found her in. Kaylee let out a relieved sigh and turned to carry on her search. Mal had given her a list of loose bits of materials – pipes, wires and other small appliances – to collect. She just hadn’t told him that she technically wasn’t allowed in the room they could be found in. If she had, her grumpy dad-friend wouldn’t let her help at all. She wanted to help, even if it was just collecting parts Mal swore would be necessary. 

Finding the last screw, Kaylee slipped it into her overalls with a pleased hum and returned to the main factory floor, making sure she locked the door behind her. With no hesitation she moved back to her place in the construction line, nodding at the women there who had covered her disappearance the best they could. Her eyes caught Zoe’s, and she gave the older woman a nod that meant far more than just thanks. Unthinkingly her hands started up again with the familiar pattern of assembly.  
She hated this work. The monotony, the unimaginative construction, the mundane activity that offered no challenge. Put the bolt in place, screw it down, pass it on. Put the bolt in place, screw it down, pass it on. Every minute of her working day consumed with the same, dull action. Little slices of adventure did wonders for a girl’s spirits though, and she was happily surprised to discover the day coming to an end early. She stamped her time card and looked towards the door where the large form of the factory guard checked every woman that left the building. Her eyes narrowed as she saw him searching the woman a little too thoroughly. 

She felt rather than saw Zoe settle in beside her. Without barely a piece of her clothing being disturbed, Kaylee felt the strong hands of her friend plucking the equipment from her pockets and bags. “Fissa, Fissa” the Algerian whispered, tugging the bits she was handed out of sight. Just as quickly as she appeared, Zoe moved out from the line and headed towards the back entrance – the Black entrance in truth – with confident strides. The watchman at the gate – not a soldier, not for such an obviously _stupid_ race of people – didn’t bother checking her, only smiling as she passed. 

Zoe’s quick eyes scanned the loading yard until she found what she needed. Ginger hair acting as a beacon, she strolled casually across the ground until she reached her partner’s truck. Gingerly checking the other’s in the area, she planted a hurried, but passion filled kiss on unsuspecting lips. Wash jerked back in shock before registering his lover. It mattered to neither that their union was forbidden – they would both gladly face a thousand battalions just for another kiss (two thousand for a sweat soaked morning in bed). A massive smile split his face as he turned from his loading. 

“Well what a splendid surprise. I didn’t know it was my birthday already. Or is it Christmas? Possibly hannakuh or-“

“Or it could be that I wanted to say hello.”

“Or it could be that.”

She chuckled at his antics while slipping the bag onto the delivery truck with its faded “Hoban’s deliveries” on the side. Being a freelance delivery company gave Wash an almost unprecedented amount of mobility in the defended city It also made him vital for sending valuable supplies to those that needed them. He watched her with loving but confused eyes. 

“A delivery dear, for the Doctor. Give it directly to him.” As an afterthought she added “Or Jayne, if the dakhm is there.”  
Wash looked surprised for a moment before shrugging it off. The two men had a strange relationship and were remarkably close for such opposing people. But they spent a lot of time together, so it was now just a part of normal routine for Jayne to be found with Simon after work, and vice versa. A shout from the yard gates spurred Wash into action. He closed the back of the truck with grunt and gave her a final smile. Before he could get around to the driver’s side, he felt a strong hand grip his tenderly for a moment, then let go. He pulled himself into the seat, but when he looked into the mirror, his warrior woman was nowhere to be seen. 

* * *

“Quite a conspiracy you had going on then.”  
Mal smirked and ran a hand through windswept hair. 

“It doesn’t end there though.”

“Oh really,” she asked in mocking shock. “What happened then?”

* * *

Jayne watched Wash swerve back onto the road with a shaking head. Man drove so dangerously he was liable to get crushed by another car one day. The package in his hand seemed strangely heavy and he wanted desperately to get it out of his calloused hands. Stalking back toward the surgery, he shouldered the door and grunted at the sight of River swinging her legs from the exam table. She didn’t acknowledge him other than to open the door hidden behind her brother’s bookcase. He waited until he heard the soft thunk of wood hitting wood before carefully manoeuvring his large form down the stone steps.

Upon reaching the bottom his eyes squinted as the bright lights flooded his vision. He stood for a moment, letting himself adjust. Almost inaudible scuffles alerted him to the Doctor’s presence and his head followed the clicking of the younger man’s heels. The room came into view and Jayne saw that Simon hadn’t even noticed him in the entryway. He took a moment to lean against the wall and appreciate the sight before him. Every cloud had a silver lining, so said mama Cobb. Placing his package carefully on the nearest table, he snuck up behind the doctor, held his breath, then slammed his hands onto the table either side of the man. Simon jumped, cried alarm, and spun with such speed he fell against the counter. Wasting no time, Jayne lent forward untill their foreheads touched gently. He stared into wide blue eyes for a moment. Smirking he stepped back.

“Schiße! Jayne you ass-monkey, what was that for?”

“Keep you on your toes. Don’t want no stinking Nazi’s taking advantage of you now. Besides, it’s nice to see you up close.”

Simon tutted but seemed mollified. Jayne give a gentle cuff around the neck before turning around, picking up the parcel and gingerly depositing its contents on the metal table with a ringing clang. Small metal pieces, nuts, bolts, wires – every part equally as innocent looking as the rest. Both men stared down at the pieces with mixed looks of confusion and apprehension. A small piece of paper floated down and landed. Simon picked it up with all the care appropriate for such a situation.

“Instructions.”

“What?” Simon raised his eyes from the sheet and passed it over.

“It’s instructions. For a bomb. _Jayne_..” His tone indicated an argument so Jayne cut him off at the pass.

“Don’t get all panicky. Its only a small thing doc. Just let me grab the..” Large hands reached into the tray below the table. Jayne peeked in, spotted what he needed and pulled out the bundle of dynamite. Simon let out another German expletive and hurriedly stepped back. He then realised just what was in the room and slowed down untill his back reached the far wall. 

“Jayne, this is absolutely not what I meant by keeping a low profile. Where did you even get that?”

Jayne chuckled, smirked and turned his attention to the diagram on the paper. Simon began fretting and pacing, footsteps slowing as he passed the workbench, only to speed up after he passed. A lot of words were being thrown out of pursed lips, like ‘idiot’, ‘ape’, and ‘stupid.’ Jayne ignored him – as he usually did when his doctor got all fussy- and carried on with his meticulous work, knowing that if Simon stopped mumbling he wouldn’t be able to concentrate. Like magic the pieces became parts and the parts became whole. A glance at the clock told him it had only took two hours for the contraption to be created. He sat back with a groan, stretching out his shoulders. Small hands wrapped around him and started to rub them in a practiced way.

The device, with its wires sticking out and its sharp metal corners – not to mention the sticks of dynamite – was rather sinister and Jayne suddenly found he didn’t want to touch it any more. His mind flashed with images of what devices like this could, and did, do to people. A moment of hesitation, then Jayne grabbed it tenaciously, walked with slow steps to the small wooden box Simon had already prepared and l, without daring to breathe, placed it in and shut the lid. He took a step back, let out a relieved breath and twisted around to face a concerned looking Simon. Seeing such a look, Jayne’s resolved strengthened. It had to be done, to help save people the world over. To save the innocents. To save people like him and Simon.

“Right, lets get this to Mal.”

* * *

“So Jayne built the bomb in Simon’s basement? What was he doing there?”

“Damned if I know. Used to be they couldn’t even be in the same room as each other.”

Inara paused. “So if the bomb was made there, how did you get it into the factory?”

“I never said I got it in.”

* * *

The bike gears quietly growled as the thin wheels hobbled over the cobbled streets. It was raining quite hard and the street was entirely deserted as bystanders rushed to the nearest shelter. River gave a trickling laugh at the absurdity of this. Didn’t people realise that the rain was the healing water from the universe itself? Life, love and loss, all existed in the rain. She supposed she could give them a pass though; Even Simon didn’t appreciate the rain, and he was quite smart – not as clever as her though.

River peddled gaily through the streets, enjoying the privacy of the moment. The only others out with her were the tin soldiers playing games. She just weaved around them, ignoring them, paying them the attention young women normally gave to children’s toys. 

Her hair flowed behind her as the stormy wind picked up. She raised her face to the sky, smiling joyously as the rain drops caressed her face. The air crackled with electricity and excitement, as if it had peaked into her basket and seen the surprise it held. River hadn’t felt so alive in along time. 

The gates of the factory appeared before her and she pulled on the breaks, bringing herself back to earth as she did. A sharply snapped order, a hand emerging from the darkness and River passed her papers and permits over. Now she wasn’t River, but somebody else. A not-River called Helga, delivering fuel supplies to the foreman of the factory. The guard peeked under the basket cloth and saw the wine box. He waved her in and the non-river flew past him.

She reached the loading bay and it was there the bike stopped. All she had to do was wait for daddy Mal to turn up and give her the Midas touch. And there, right on time, he came sauntering towards her, careless in his caring. He gave her an accomplished smile and reached into the basket.

“Present for you. Have to wait for after dinner though.”

Mal planted a kiss on her cheek and tucked the box under his arm. “Real big thanks lil’ albertross.”

* * *

“So wait, how did you get in?”

“Well, what else is the head of Firefly electrics supposed to do when the local factory finds its lights on the blink?”

“I see. But there is something missing from your fairytale.”

“Oh yeah,” He said innocently, giving her a signature grin. “What’s that?”

“You planted a bomb yesterday: Where was the explosion?”

Mal let out a hearty laugh and just held out his arm to her. She took it gladly and they began to stroll away from the factory, the sun disappearing at the end of the street. As her foot touched the ground however, a massive whoosh made her stumble. Turning in panic, she watched as the factory crumbled before her eyes, shouts of fear and confusion permeating the air.

Mal tugged her back to him and they walked on, ignoring the gathering people looking on in wonder.


End file.
